


(out)last, lost (cause)

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, alternative title is how to bulgeblock your best friend in thirty nights or less, first ship gets mentioned a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: when we've lost all the hours then we'll still have those days





	(out)last, lost (cause)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auxanges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxanges/gifts).



> "honestly.....to be entirely honest.......i just wanna see signless c3< psii c3< dualscar if you can make that happen i will offer you one (1) piece of my soul for this spicy dynamic. u are at the helm (haha)  
> i forgot about this ship until two days ago bye"

Gods above and deeps below, you’re _still_ not entirely fuckin’ sure why you let the little mutant aboard your boat. He’s loud, to be sure, and a certain kind of scrappy you’d appreciate much easier if it weren’t for the vibrancy of his disgusting, _burning_ , hue. And he doesn’t even have the _decency_ or the _grace_ to be _ashamed_ of it! What a godsdamn waste of _resources_.

He hasn’t stopped attempting to talk to you. For some reason, he seems convinced that you, Orphaner Dualscar, )(er Imperious Condescension’s line-bound, the terror of the seas and haunter of the days, will—as he himself said— _come around_.

An idiot, then, as well as a mutant. He goes by “Signless”, but in your mind, “Cullbait” suits him a fair fuckin’ sight better. With the way he keeps butting into your space, practically insisting upon your attention as he spouts off about hemoequality _this_ , and brighter future _that_ , it’s all you can do not to do the job yourself.

 

And on the day you _finally_ fuckin’ snap and round on him, fins flared and fangs bared, he has the _audacity_ to look _smug_.

...it hits you fair quick, after that. You’ve been called many things, fool among them, but it takes more than its using for a word to be true. The little shit was angling for pitch—and what’s more, you’re godsdamn well willing to give it to him.

 

* * *

 

He’s Dualscar here, and a hatchname he refuses to give you. Odd—you remember hearing it a lot, sort of, it’s water in your hands when you wake, round-rolling over your fangs—but you suppose the Ampora of this world has learned to keep his secrets closer to his chest. Surprising, that.

And annoying, actually—more annoying than you thought it would or expected it to be. Who was _he_ to be smug and superior? You could _tell_ he listened to what you said, for all that he griped and huffed and insisted that he had _better_ things to do. And you _noticed_ when he _somehow_ had work that _just so happened_ to need doing near you, if the two of you hadn’t spoken in some time.

All in all, he was utterly _infuriating_ —and from the smirk he so often wore, he knew it too.

 

The first pitch interlude had been _startling_. For all that it hadn’t come out of nowhere—you were _still_ convinced that you had seen it coming—it still threw you into a bit of a fluster. One hand found purchase in his hair, sea-scented and wind-tossed, while the other wrapped around one of his _very_ athletic horns. _Gods_ , jagged lightning bolts of a storm set into his head, and somehow he carried them like a crown—

Ahem. Yes.

Simple enough—your Beloved seemed concerned, but understanding, and the two of you...claws deep in, more often than not, a snarl on your lips and an answering one on his made it _easy_ to ignore the condescending, possessive looks he gave you, or the fact that you nearly always came away the only one limping. You were beating the awful out of him, piece by piece, and sharpening him into a better sort of troll.

There was still some kind of good left in him, you could see it. From the way he spoke, in the quiet early hours of the day, those times you go looking for him on watch because you can’t or won’t find sleep, you know there’s more to him than he chooses to show.

 

* * *

 

While you happen to be _very_ used to being up to your elbows in KN’s stupid shit, you are _very much done_ with him this time. Whatever weird crimp he had built into his off-spec mutant thinkpan had pushed him _a step too far_.

Throwing in pitch with a _seadweller_ was never a good idea at the _best_ of times, much less when you were on the run from a fucking _insane_ finbitch, and the seadweller in question was _her own personal orphaner_ , who, by all known accounts, harbored more flushed feelings for her than a whole bay full of plumbing pipes.

 

You’re a good fucking friend. By your own standards, and several others, you would do _anything_ to keep the trolls you loved safe.

Which _meant_ , the _next_ time you heard a door slamming on the large ship, you zipped on down, and psionically kicked it open.

 

KN looks up at you, absolutely horrified, from the ground where the douchey violet has him pinned, his stupid leggings already half-shoved down, his neck already bleeding. You flash him your brightest grin, ignoring the way his claws are a _little_ too close to that set of gills, and flick the douchefin around the horn with a snap of your fingers and a jolt of psionics.

“What the _fuck_ –” the violet says, building up into a snarl, until your spark-filled hand lands firmly on his fin.

“Mituna!” Now KN looks even more horrified, and you take the opportunity to plant your entire hand across his face, letting him feel exactly how weak the tickles of power you used on Dualscar are. “...oh.”

...it _probably_ also helps that the overgrown asshat is purring like MU’s lusus, and rubbing up against your hand. Weird, that. Maybe it was a seadweller thing?

Either way, you had a job to do.

 

Planting yourself firmly down between the two of them, you fixed the still-flustered Best Friend and still-hazy Annoying Violet with your sternest look. “This ends here. I frankly fucking _suck_ at being the responsible one, but if that’s what it takes to keep the two of you from shredding each other to bits—words count too, Vantas—then I will troll the fuck up and do so. Are we clear?”

Dualscar glances at your best friend—the ruin he’s made of KN’s skin, the old bruises that still have yet to heal—and grimaces. “Crystal.”

KN has the grace to look ashamed—he uses words so well to help that he seems to forget how easily he can hurt—and nods. “We understand.”

“Good,” you tell them, then shove off the ground and offer them both a hand up. “Now let’s get something to eat, I’m _starving_ .” Handmaid’s heart, they’re going to be a fucking handful. You cast a glance over your shoulder, as they follow you to the mess, bickering quietly— _calmly_ —over something trivial. A handful, definitely, but very much worth it. You, of all people,are never surprised to learn that seemingly lost causes really often are.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hope you like this k bye


End file.
